


The Best Chair

by toowincesttolive



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Chair Sex, Domestic Dean Winchester, Domestic Winchesters, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wincest - Freeform, wincest fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-06 10:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3131723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toowincesttolive/pseuds/toowincesttolive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's one chair that is by far the best spot in the bunker. There's always a fierce competition. Except sometimes they share the chair.</p>
<p>It's a bit of fluff, then smut, then some more fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Chair

The Chair

“Hey! Hey, you got it last time, right? That means today is my turn,” Dean reasoned, glancing over at Sam. He knew there was no way in hell Sam would just give him the chair. Even for tonight. Even if Dean threatened to withhold sex.

Of course, if Dean’s being honest with himself, there was no withholding sex. Dean would give in before Sam and they both knew it.

“Um, no. That’s how not we’ve been doing things, Dean. You know the rules,” Sam said.

The sex card would be a good strategy for Sam to use if he didn’t already win the chair 90% of the time. Dean was positive that he was cheating, but he couldn’t call him out on it until he figured out how he was cheating.

“Yeah, yeah. I know the rules. I just wanted to give you an easy out. So you won’t get hurt trying to take MY chair,” Dean said, smirking. This time, he would win. He had a very well thought out plan to get to the chair before his brother could claim it for himself.

Sam knew Dean was strategizing already. He could tell by the nearly constipated look on Dean’s face. That didn’t matter all too much to Sam because he had a plan that had already been proven effective. He would absolutely win. He could already feel it.

The chair was the ideal spot in the bunker. It was perfectly positioned in front of the TV, had a tray that folded up for food or books, it reclined easily, and it was long enough to comfortably house all 6’4” of Sam. It was one of few things both of them took care not to ever do anything that could potentially damage it, which is why they decided on the “one person per day” rule.

The competition would be fierce today. It always was on the days after long hunts away from the bunker. The nasty hotels and up-all-night research left them longing for the comfort of their real, actual home. They fought most over the chair right after those hunts, when they thought they would never take it for granted.

And, once the chair had been won, they’d head for the showers. Sometimes, they would end up in the same shower, but that really depended on how dirty they’d gotten on the hunt and usually on how close one of them had gotten to being killed.

Dean would never admit to it, but sometimes, when he knew he could get away with it, Dean would intentionally stick his neck out to be saved at the last minute by Sam. The tender kisses and careful touches Sam would give him that touched on desperation and the fear of losing him left Dean content in the perfect heaven of Sam’s arms.

This hunt hadn’t been that bad, but Dean hadn’t taken any stupid chances this time. The showers they wanted would be just showers. Nothing exciting. Most of their energy was focused on getting to the chair before the other.

As soon as the car was in park, Sam was halfway to the stairs and Dean was hardly two steps behind him. They would unload the impala and have their showers in the bathrooms that had no questionable stains once the chair had been won.

Inside the bunker, the boys went in the opposite directions. Dean went down by the kitchen and into the living room. He was sure he had Sam beat until he walked into the living room, ready fall in the chair, and found Sam already there.

Sam could see the fire in Dean’s eyes and wondered for a moment if he was going to have a mental breakdown.

Dean eventually took a few deep breaths and steadied himself.

“Next time, little brother,” He glared at Sam as he walked back out to the impala to get their shit out and throw it in the laundry room.

 

A few hours later, Dean was still sulking on the couch when Sam suddenly turned off the TV. They had been mindlessly flipping through sports and reruns, but Dr. Sexy was supposed to be on as soon as the current crap they were watching ended. 

Dean looked over at Sam, asking what the problem was without saying it out loud. He also figured this was Sam trying to piss him off even more. Dean knew Sam knew about his little “guilty pleasure.”

“Dean, damn, it’s just a chair. Quit moping like somebody died,” Sam said, annoyance seeping through his tone. He bit back on the venom that threatened to slip out at Dean, too.

Dean glared at Sam. Of course he was moping. It felt like it had been weeks since he’d had the chair. He was worn out and on the edge of either a temper tantrum or a break down, as per usual. Sam was not helping the situation. Dean started to apologize and looked up at Sam, trying his best at the lethal puppy dog eyes that Sam had down to a science.

Sam caved easier than Dean expected. “You know, Dean, It is possible, if you want to…” he said, letting his sentence drift off into space. He winked at Dean quickly, to the point where Dean wasn’t entirely sure if Sam was coming on to him or if he was just really desperate.

“To what?” Dean demanded. He was nearly salivating, hoping Sam was going where Dean thought he was going.

“We can always… share the chair…” Sam looked at Dean with just enough of a hint of lust for Dean to catch his drift. 

”What makes you think I would want to share the chair with you?” Dean stood up, but not too fast, and sauntered over to the chair. He very carefully tried not to seem too excited and attempted to look more careless. He really wanted Sam to fuck him. And fuck him in the chair, oh God. The fireworks were already going off in Dean’s head. He felt like Sam must be watching the show in his eyes.

“Well, if you don’t want to,” Sam turned his head away from Dean and reached for the remote, and then abruptly turned and grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him down on his lap. He grinned at the catch in Dean’s breath as he whirled through the air.

With the feeling like the wind in his hair when the windows are down in the impala, Dean was situated on Sam’s lap. And incredibly turned on. Never in his life had Dean imagined how he could make a fool of himself and be swept off his feet by his baby brother.

“How did you manage to get so smooth?” Dean breathed onto Sam’s neck, sending shivers up his spine. It pleased Dean to know that he could have the same effect on Sam.

“You know what they say, Dean, a good magician-“ but Sam didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence as Dean’s lips were on his with enough heat to power New York City. And, just like that, the façade was over. Dean kissed like he had been starved, like he hadn’t seen Sam in months.

Sam relished Dean’s hunger and met his fervor, reaching his hand around to the back of Dean’s neck and held him there. He rotated his hips under Dean, rubbing his growing, clothed erection against Dean’s far too covered ass.

Dean let out an involuntary moan against Sam’s mouth. He grinded down against Sam, and ran his hands under Sam’s T-shirt, pressing his cool finger tips to Sam’s burning hot stomach, exploring the well-known landscape. Dean knew every muscle and crease on Sam’s body. He knew every scar and weak spot on Sam, yet it always excited him to feel him under his fingertips. To know without even a shadow of a doubt that Sam belonged to him. And he belonged to Sam. Dean had never said this out loud to his brother, but he felt the feeling was mutually understood.

Sam moved his lips from Dean’s mouth, traveling along Dean’s jaw and moving towards his collarbone, stopping only to pull Dean’s shirt up over his head, barely having the patience not to rip if off his torso. Then, Sam went back to work at Dean’s throat, eventually finding that spot that drove Dean fucking insane and sucking a hickey there, whispering “mine” in between his breaths.

Dean tipped his head back, momentarily lost in Sam’s lips against his skin. He ran a fingertip over Sam’s nipple and felt Sam’s sharp intake of breath against his skin. Dean flicked at them a few times before moving his hand down to Sam’s jeans and working on the button and zipper. He didn’t even bother pushing them off, just pulling out his cock. Dean started to get up so he could get his mouth on Sam’s dick, but Sam stopped him with a hand in Dean’s pants.

He took a hold of Dean and pumped his dick a few times in his jeans. He stopped quickly to undo Dean’s jeans and slide them off and on the floor. Sam grabbed him again through his boxers, and Dean moaned loudly. “C’mon, Sammy! Quit teasing,” he whined.

“It’s a little early to start begging,” Sam said. He pumped Dean’s dick again and let go. “Let’s get these off, too.” He grabbed the waistband of his boxers and pushed them off the perfect curve of Dean’s ass. Sam figured some people might say he had a mild obsession with Dean’s ass, but it’s hard not to. It just made Dean all the more fuckable, which worked out in favor for both of them.

Dean shivered a little as the cold air hit his ass.

Sam grabbed the lube out of the drawer on the table next to the chair. He pressed it into Dean’s hand and grabbed Dean’s sides to spin him around. “I wanna see you open yourself up for me, Dean. Get yourself all ready for my cock. Bet you can’t wait to have it in your ass. You’re such a needy little slut, you know that, Dean.”

“Good God, Sam!” Dean felt like he could nearly cum just from Sam whispering each of those things right into his ear. Sam’s name slipped through his lips while he was coating his fingers. He tentatively pressed one finger in his hole, easing into the cool feeling of lube.

Sam watched Dean finger himself open on his lap with a touch of impatience. “Hurry up, Dean. Wanna fuck you. Wanna fuck you so bad. Split you open on my cock and make you cum all over yourself. Mm, I love watching you finger yourself. Yeah, like that. Add another finger, Dean. Damn, you make me so hard.”

Dean had three fingers in his hole and was moving and writhing like it was the last thing he would ever do. “S-S-S-Sam! Please, fuck me nowwww…” Dean begged.

That was possibly what Sam liked best about fucking Dean. He begged so pretty, and Sam didn’t even have to ask. At first, Dean had been all too concerned about his masculinity, but Sam very quickly put a stop to that. After that day, Dean was more open and vocal with Sam than had been thought possible previously. So Sam fed a million dirty thoughts and words into Dean’s head and let him beg his heat out for Sam’s cock.

Sam tugged Dean’s fingers out of his hole and let Dean lube up his cock. He guided Dean’s ass down on his cock. “I wanna see you fuck yourself on my cock, Dean,” Sam whispered in Dean’s ear, thrusting up once then stilling.

Dean lifted himself nearly all the way off of Sam’s cock and then slammed his ass back down. He did this again and again until he found his rhythm fucking himself onto Sam. He felt Sam’s hand reach around and grab his dick in his hand and started pumping in time with Dean’s thrusts.

“Oh-Oh God, Sammy, I’m gonna cum. Sammy, I-“ Dean’s arms strained and defined his muscles in holding himself up. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with Sam’s mouth breathing hot in his ear, whispering occasionally about all the ways he wanted to fuck Dean and Sam’s hand pumping his dick.

“Hold-Just hold on, Dean,” Sam said. Dean slammed his ass down on Sam’s dick one, two, three more times before Sam bit down at the base of Dean’s neck and came, shooting his load into Dean’s ass.  
That was all it took before Dean was coming all over himself and Sam’s hand. He grinded down against Sam as they rode out their highs.

Dean pulled himself up off Sam’s cock and tucked it back into Sam’s jeans. He pulled on his boxers and settled back against Sam, watching their breathing even out before he turned his head towards Sam and was met with a tender kiss. Dean closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss. 

“I like this chair better like this,” Sam murmured.

“Me too,” Dean smiled. He kissed along Sam’s throat until his head was leaning against Sam’s shoulder. He kissed Sam’s skin lightly a few more times before he drifted off on his shoulder, clinging against him like a child does a stuffed animal.

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean. He listened to Dean’s deep, unlabored breathing and sighed into the comfort of Dean’s hold on him. He had so many close calls with Dean. And so many times when it wasn’t a close call, it was just watching Dean die. Sam would never get enough of Dean being so intimate open. He was only ever okay when he had Dean this close to him.

Sam fell asleep knowing he would wake up without any feeling in his legs and probably a cramp in his  
neck, but he let himself be lulled to sleep with a hand in Dean’s hair and Dean’s even breaths on his throat.

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically just a thought that I had a few days ago. you can submit prompts at my tumblr, krym-dela-krym.tumblr.com/ask if you feel like it. I can't guarantee everything will be answered, but my mind doesn't supply enough ideas to keep me writing.


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